Broken Dollhouses, Broken Hearts
by killerkitty15
Summary: Things aren't good at Mattie's house so he decides to turn to a higher (or would it be lower?) power for some demonic assistance Warnings: infidelity, child abuse, drug abuse, shota, graphic rape, alcohol abuse, religious themes, character death, gore, horror, I don't own the characters, extremely graphic horror -BE WARNED! NO FLAMES!


**NOOOOOOOOOOO FLAAAAAAAAAMES!**

**I usually don't like portraying the FACE family like this, believe me, I love them with all my heart but...well, I was inspired by the song "Dollhouse" by Melanie Martinez and I just thought of this family so...please don't hate me...because this is really sad...ready the warnings, please. Also, I just want to say I sympathize with anyone who has ever gone through these problems that I'm bringing up in the beginning of this story. **

_**Warnings: infidelity, child abuse, drug abuse, shota, graphic rape, alcohol abuse, religious themes, character death, gore, horror, I don't own the characters, NO FLAMES**_

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Pictures appeared on the television screen, room dark and curtains drawn over the windows. A suede couch -green, hard wood floors smooth and bleached by the sun light, a leather recliner -black -with a dip in the seat. On the North wall were windows and a green window seat, throw pillows yellow, while on the South wall were bookshelves stuffed with books. Daddy was laying on the couch, breath stinking and eyes glazed -half lidded and staring at the television screen.

There was no noise coming from the man on the screen's lips.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, walking out of the kitchen's threshold and passed Daddy and the TV. He didn't move. I walked to the windows, turning right and in the direction of the front door.

"Where yuh goin?" he murmured. His voice, British and motherly, was now hallow and heavy, reminding me of lead bricks.

"Upstairs." I turned away from the front door, walking up the stairs. I peaked in my parents' room. The bed was unmade. It was messy. Papa wasn't in the bedroom, he wasn't in the bed, or the kitchen, or his office, or the basement, or the attic. My cell phone rang and I reached in my pocket. "Hello?"

"Bonjour, mon petite, Papa's going to be coming 'ome a little late today." That was my Papa's voice, deep and French accented. Maybe a little guilty.

"Ok, Papa."

"I love you, Matthieu."

_Too late. _

I hung up. _Daddy, get off the couch! Daddy, he's with Him again! Daddy, drag Papa back here!_ I walked out of their room, going to my brother's door. Its crappy black paint job -that Alfred had done himself -was chipping and there was signs that said "Fuck Off!", "STAY OUT!", "Go to Hell, CUNT!" I knocked on the door, watching paint flakes fall. "Al?" I called softly, "Can I come in?"

"...Fine."

Alfred let me come in. It was a small victory. I heard the lock click and I stepped inside. The walls were black, pot leaves spray painted in bright red on the walls, a bed was shoved up against the right wall, scraps of fabric tied to the spaces in the wooden, folding doors of his closet, a desk was on the north wall, on the left wall was a dresser and a book shelf, covered with varied drug related paraphernalia -mostly pot related. The wooden floor was covered in dirty clothes, music blared from the stereo and Alfred sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed and smoking his pot from a bong. Alfred was tall, Alfred was broad with muscles and big shoulders, he was currently wearing baggy jeans that would fall passed his ass if not for the black belt with the big, playboy bunny belt buckle, a baggy red t-shirt, dirty white socks and a long sleeved, white under armor shirt. He had a piercing in his left ear, rings on his black nailed fingers and a tattoo only I knew about. The tattoo was on his right shoulder of a bald eagle being strangled by the American flag while a snake ate its intestines.

"What do you want?" Alfred asked inhaling the disgusting pot smoke. It was strong, I could smell it from outside. Not that Daddy would notice, if the empty liquor bottles covering the coffee table were any indication, and Papa was out with his whore. No. Daddy said not to call Him a whore. Or a slut. Or a home wrecker. Or a demon. Or a piece of shit. Daddy said it wouldn't be "proper". Daddy said to call Him Papa's secretary, his "assistant". Fuck that. I hated Him. I was happy before He came along, we all were happy. But, apparently, Papa wasn't if he was _so_ willing to "dip" his "pen" into someone else's "ink".

"Papa said he was going to be home late." My arms were still wrapped around my middle.

"...Mm, that means Ivan's comin'?" he asked inhaling more smoke.

I nodded, "Yeah."

"I'm leavin' then," Alfred said finally putting down the finished bong. He dug around in his pile of dirty clothes for a pair of black sneakers he didn't bother to lace up and a red beanie. "Don't wanna be around that communist piece of shit. Smells like shit, walks like shit, he gotta be a commie. Russian too. Piece of shit."

Al didn't like Uncle Ivan, despite having grown up around the man and considering him family. When Alfred was thirteen, he began to hate Ivan. I didn't understand. Until now. Now that he was doing "it" to me too. I looked at Alfred's bong. I wanted some now. If Alfred knew Ivan had dumped him for me...Ivan would be dead. Gunned down, beaten and sodomized with a blunt object. Alfred wouldn't want him doing "it" to me.

_Too late._

"Please be careful," I whispered, my arms tightened around myself, "Don't get hurt. Please. Don't get hurt."

"I'll be fine," he smirked, ruffling my hair as if we were young again. _Too late_. "Always am."

"Promise."

"I promise. Can I go now, _Ma_?"

He was starting to get irritated now. "Yeah," I squeaked. I followed him out of his room, down the stairs to the front door.

"Where yuh goin?" It was Daddy.

"Out," Alfred said, "don't worry 'bout it, Pops."

_Too late._

" 'ave fun, 'en."

"Hm, I will." Alfred closed the door. He didn't look back as he hopped in Daddy's car. Daddy wouldn't need it.

What replaced it was the silver shine of Ivan's car. I wanted to hurl. I wanted a sign to tape to my chest, like one of Alfred's door signs. "Fuck off!", "DON'T TOUCH ME!", "STAY AWAY!" Ivan got out of the car, tall, Russian, blonde, big nosed. He wore his tan coat and scarf although it was Spring. And sunny. Seventy degrees. I winced, opening the door for him and trying to hide.

He didn't notice me at first, going to Daddy who was laying half unconscious.

"Look at this mess, Arthur."

"M'back de...fuck off'm."

"Nyet," Ivan shook his head, picking Daddy up like a bride.

"Francis...how sweet," Daddy mumbled nuzzling into Ivan's body. Poor Daddy, love was an awful thing, it looked like. Ivan stayed quiet, bring Daddy to his room and quietly scolding Daddy for the state of his bedroom.

I walked to the kitchen, sitting on the top of the robin egg blue table. Ivan would eventually remember me and, if I wasn't here -waiting -he'd punish me. More than he already did. Sure enough, he came into the kitchen and pinned me to the table with an evil smirk. Both of my wrists fit in one of his big hands, encased in rough leather, my back to the table top and my legs hanging off the edge.

"Privet, Matvey," he chuckled, a weird 'kololololol' noise, as he smirked down at me. His face was monstrous, hot breath on my face with little drops of saliva flicking out onto my cheeks and eyes. "Khoroshiy mal'chik, you waited for me," Ivan said his free hand shoving between my knees and prying them apart. He settled between them, leaning forward to bite at my neck, drawing blood and rutting against me like an animal.

I felt dirty.

He was forty.

I was sixteen.

I felt his hand tighten around my wrists and I jerked my boxer clad hips up into his, just for show. I wanted to cry. Ivan moaned, hand rubbing the bulge in my boxers -I was only wearing my pajamas of blue polar bear boxers and an over sized white t-shirt that went down to my thighs, only leaving a half inch of my boxers visible. I jerked my hips again, whimpering and groaning as my body betrayed me for the hundredth time. One hundred times he had done this, I counted, and this was about to be the one hundredth and one time. He yanked on the neck of my t-shirt, popping some seams and stretching it down over my shoulder and leaving bite marks on the freckled skin. Quickly he got bored, pushing my t-shirt up beneath my chin to gnaw and bite my nipples, shoving my boxers down to hang pathetically around my ankles. I made noises I knew he would like, changing my painful scream into a loud moan as he shoved inside without undressing himself -only bothering to unzip himself and pull out his dick from the flap of his underwear -and without bothering to prepare me. I laid there, eyes shut and trying not to let out the tears or the screams I desperately wanted to let out. I wanted to scream and cry, curl myself up in a ball and tell Ivan to burn in Hell, to get away from me, stop raping me.

It wasn't fair.

With a groan he came inside me, but I was still hard. He didn't bother to help me into completion as he pulled out and left. I choked on a sob, sliding off the table and landing hard on the floor. Cum dripped down my legs, blood and semen sticking to the inside of my thighs as I removed my boxers, balling them up in my fist and waddling up the stairs, leaning heavily into the railing.

Daddy didn't wake up. He was too drunk to hear the painful noises I made and the ones of pleasure that Ivan groaned.

Papa wasn't here to stop Ivan from taking me in the kitchen, ruining my body for my soul mate. Whoever that may be.

Alfred wasn't here to beat Ivan up. He wasn't here to protect me with his fists and his kicks, swears and spittle falling from his lips as he repeated: "I'll kill you for touching him, I'll kill you! Fucking Commie! Pig! Pervert, pedophile!"

I breathed heavily, stumbling to my room. When I got there, I closed and locked the door, tossing my underwear onto the floor angrily. "Damn it," I whimpered wrapping my arms around my midsection, "G-Gil...Gilbert, I need you."

No answer.  
I began to cry.

"Gilbert, son of Satan -the fallen angel, Lucifer, cast out of Heaven and down to Hell by God himself -_I fucking need you!_"

"Gilbert, son of Satan -the fallen angel, Lucifer, cast out of Heaven and down to Hell by God himself -_I fucking need you_!" I sobbed tears sliding down my cheeks to soak the ends of my hair and the sides of my neck. I didn't want to be alone. I was always alone. I was so sick and tired of it!

"Humans are truly pazhetic."

I opened my eyes, my head shooting up and meeting red eyes with slit pupils. "Gilbert…"

"I told you I vould come vhen I vas called," he smirked. It was demonic and scandalous, sending dark shivers up my spine. He took in my appearance and his smirk disappeared. "Vhat happened to you."

I couldn't lie to him. I _couldn't._ I knew by the tone of his voice that he _knew_. He knew the truth! I covered my leaking eyes and sobbed, trying to make myself shrink, to fade from existence and become smaller. "He -Ivan, he raped me! Again, Gilbert! I don't want it! I-I-I-I-!"

"Shhh, Birdie, I understand," his voice was uncharacteristically soft and gentle, his pale, blue veined hands, adorned with inch long, black claws cupped my cheeks. He leaned close and I could feel his cold breath on my face. Gilbert lived in Hell. He said Hell was so cold that your limbs could fall off from frost bite. His didn't. He was a demon, the son of Satan, his limbs stayed on. His cold breath was on my face and I gasped, shivering as I placed my hands on his chest; a forked tongue landed on my cheek, cold and wet, licking up the tears in an almost worshiping manner.

My body was betraying me again but this time my heart wanted it too.

"He hurt you?" I nodded as Gilbert used his body to press mine into the door. "He make you bleed?" I whimpered, nodding with my eyes still closed. He rubbing my hipbones through my over sized t-shirt stained with my own blood. "Vhere?"

"M-My neck..."

I felt him pull away and my eyes quickly fluttered open, watching him. Gilbert was beautiful, he had blood red eyes with horizontal, slitted pupils, messy hair as white as fallen snow, pale skin that was almost translucent, revealing many blue veins filled with pure, demonic blood. He was tall and muscular, not overly so, and had a smirk that would make anyone -gay, straight, man, woman -weak in the knees, he had a strong jaw, thin lips and a straight nose. Two golden horns grew from his head, going upward then curving slightly outward, his ears were in sharp points, his talons were long, black and deadly, his teeth were shark like and he had a thin, black tail with a pointed end. But was was the most amazing were the two black, bat like wings sprouting from his back. They were beautiful and made wearing a shirt impossible -_double bonus!_ -so Gilbert usually wore a black leather best that he never buttoned, giving me a fantastic view of his six pack, and matching leather pants. He wore no shoes.

I watched as this beautiful demon, that I had accidentally summoned, tilted his head down to gently kiss my neck and lap up my blood with his long, forked tongue. A gasp shakily passed my parted lips, I arched my neck and fisted my hands into his leather vest.

"I vish I could have done zhis," he growled against my skin, lightly sucking at a spot where Ivan had sunk his teeth in, "I vish I could have made you cry out in pain, beg for more as I suck your blood."

"Why don't you?" I panted, pulling him closer and pressing our hips together, "He came inside me, get him out, burn my insides with your seed and make sure there's nothing left of him."

"As you wish, liebling," Gilbert chuckled, gripping my elbows and pulling me in until our lips met.

Call me what ever you want. Some kids at school call me goth and emo, I don't deny it because, what's the point? My room isn't painted black like Alfred's, but maybe I'm missing something here. My bedroom walls are white, thick black curtains on the windows, glow in the dark stars on my ceiling, a bed with unmade red sheets in the middle of the room, a dresser on the left wall with a stereo, a stack of CDs, a hair straightener, and eyeliner, nail polish and cover up (for bruises left by Ivan) on the top, a small mirror with a hand painted red, white and black frame above the dresser, clothes stuck out from the slats in my fold out closet doors that were covered by a black, purple and red beaded curtain, a desk was on the right wall messy with papers, notebooks and pens scattered on the top with my backpack for school in the red swivel chair, a waist height book shelf stuffed with occult books and, on the top of the dresser was a dirty, old human skull that I had found in my backyard when I was twelve, a bloody steak knife wrapped in a black cloth napkin, a rosary with an upside down cross, a painting of Lucifer falling from Heaven framed above the book shelf and several red and black candles in varying stages of melting, as well as walls covered entirely with band posters, poetry, quotes, sketches and photos of friends and family. I didn't think it was goth or emo or whatever. But that probably was just me.

But, no, this is the point. The point was, through some ritual I accidentally evoked Gilbert, the oldest son of Satan, and he was tied to me. He knew what I wanted and would give it to me. My own personal demon. The point was, this hot, irresistible demon currently had his thin lips pressed to my moist ones, his fork tongue probing at the seams of my lips. I moaned, lifting my hands to reach for his head; my left hand gripped the back of his head, silky strands of hair twisting around my skinny fingers, as my right hand reached up, gripping on to one of his horns. I yanked his head forward at the same time I separated my lips, sucking his tongue inside of my mouth. His tongue twisted around mine, his being longer and more flexible, reaching into every part of my mouth at the same time, tasting and growling as he did.

I struggled to taste him, yanking on his horns and his hair. "Let me taste you," I moaned saliva dripping from the corners of my mouth as I tried to speak around his tongue, "Please, Gil…" He chuckled; shoving his tongue in farther and opening his mouth more so I could slide my tongue passed his and enter his. He tasted of burning, fire, brimstone, despair, passion, lust, anger, ashes, revenge, and power. It was a deep, heady taste that quickly made me addicted; I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing myself further against the door and his body closer to mine. His hands went from my arms to my sides, massaging the skin firmly until he got to my hips.

He pulled away. I whimpered, my face followed his, trying to get those lips again. He kissed me chastely, laughing. He pulled away again, smirking gently.

"Vhere else did he make you bleed?" he asked giving one last lick at the blood on my neck.

I blushed, arms tensing as I looked down at his chest. "U-Uh…my…my ch-chest…."

"Your…chest?" I nodded. He smirked. "Take off your shirt, let me see you naked, liebe." Again, I nodded. Gilbert used his sharp claws, ripping my shirt to shreds and throwing the pieces on the floor. He frowned when he saw the clotting blood, the bruises and scars on my skin. "I vill kill him." The growl surprised me and I looked up, opening my mouth to say something but was silenced by his arms locking around my lower back. He was on his knees, arms tight around my lower back, sucking and licking up the blood that was clotting around my nipples. They were still sensitive from Ivan's violent treatment and I cried out as he sucked, tongue twisting around the bud, thumbs rubbing circles in my back.

"Gil…" I moaned, bending over his head, my right hand gripped one of his horns and the nails of my left hand were scratching at his shoulder blades, "F-Fuck…o-oh~."

I heard a deep purr of contentment. It was him. I smiled shakily, lifting my foot and using my toes to rub the bulge in his pants. He growled and purred, sucking on my chest harder. I tossed my head back and moaned. "I vill kill him for touching you," Gilbert promised pressed heated kisses down my sternum, my belly and around my hips, his forked tongue dipping into the curves and gaps, "You vant zhat too, right? You vant him to die? You von't forbid me from tying him down und making him vatch as I pull out his own intestines?"

He sounded so excited when talking about homicide. I should have been appalled, frightened.  
But I wasn't.

* * *

I didn't cry when they found Ivan's tortured, gutted body a week later. I lit the candles on my bookshelf, playing "Requiem of War" softly in the background. I grabbed the steak knife, unwrapped it, pressed the blade to the skin of my wrist and watched the blood flow. "Gilbert," I whispered the name of my demonic lover a prayer on my lips. My lips that would never utter a praise to God, to Jesus, to angels. These lips were reserved for a passionate demon that fingered me slowly and thoroughly, who entered me slowly, building up the passion until "love making" turned into a hard fucking. A passionate demon, son of the devil, who ripped out the heart of my Papa's whore and gave it to me in fancy wrapping tissue and ribbon. "Gilbert, my lover, son of the mighty, fallen angel Lucifer, I call for you," I murmured and I could feel and smell the shadows around me darkening, "I love you, I want you, I-."

"Say zhat first part again," Gilbert whispered hotly in my ear, arms wrapping around my torso. He kissed from my earlobe, down my neck to my shoulder, sucking just enough to leave a big, purpling bruise.

I giggled. Blood started to drip from my wrist down my arm. "I love you," I hummed letting him pick me up bridle style, carrying me to my bed and gently setting me down against the pillows. I watched as he got between my legs, laying on his side. He rested his right cheek against my right thigh, my left leg draped over his waist. He began to gently stroke my calf and the inside bend of my knee.

"Ich liebe dich auch," he chuckled kissing the inside of my thigh before taking my wrist in his mouth. He licked up the blood, making slurping and gulping noises. "I love you, Birdie," he said gulping down air before diving back in for more, purring as he fell into euphoric bliss.

"Hmmm..."

"Matthieu!"

I sat up, eyes wide and panicked. It was Papa. "O-Oui, Papa?" I looked at Gil, who was still drinking from my wrist. He paused and motioned me to calm down.

"Dinner eez ready!"

My legs tensed. My body was shaking. "Al-Alright! I'll...I'll be right down!"

"...Are you ok, Matthieu?" Papa asked his voice concerned.

I looked at Gilbert who was licking blood from his teeth and cleaning my cut with his tongue. "I'm fine, just tired! Give me a minute to get descent."

"Matthieu?" Papa opened the door to my room, which I had forgotten to lock, and stopped, eyes wide as he saw me laying against my pillows, a demon between my legs with my blood on his teeth and around his mouth. "Matthieu!" he shouted, both paling and turning green, "Get away from zhat-zhat zhing! Eet eez a monster!"

"Papa, please-!"

"_Matthieu!_" he snapped grabbing my uninjured wrist and pulling me to my feet. Despite my struggling, he pulled me away from my demon lover.

"Non, Papa! I love him!" I argued digging my heels into the carpet and repeatedly yanking backwards. "Papa stop it! Why won't you let me explain?"

"Zhis demon 'as tricked you!" he yelled furiously, " 'e 'as put you under zome zort of zpell!"

"Non, I lov-!"

He slapped me. Tears spilled down in rivulets.

I heard Gilbert growl as he stood to his full height, wings extended and flapping restlessly, fangs bared and eyes narrowed. "Get avay from him."

Papa's brows furrowed and he tried to look intimidating. " 'e eez mon zon!"

Gilbert wrapped his hand around Papa's throat, picking him up off the ground. "He is _mein_!" the demon snarled, "I claimed him!" With that, he threw Papa down the stairs. Papa's head hit the stairs with a loud crack and I screamed, trying to muffle the noise with my hand.

"_Papa!_"

"What is -_oh bloody Hell!_" Daddy said coming to see what was happening. He saw Papa at the bottom of the stairs and screamed, looking upwards and seeing the demonic form of Gilbert. "_Francis!_ Matthew, get away from him!" he screamed taking a step back.

Gilbert roared, eyes flashing and nostrils flaring with possessive fury. "_Mein_!" he snapped descending onto Daddy.

Daddy ran, screaming for Alfred and I to run. I didn't run. I curled up in a corner, trying to cover my ears to block out Daddy's blood curdling scream and Alfred's agonizing groaning and screaming. I was sobbing, rocking back and forth. Until...I heard nothing. It was quiet. Slowly, I stood up, leaving my room and walking down stairs. The kitchen was covered in blood, muscle tissue, skin and internal organs. I saw Papa in the kitchen, laying half on top of Daddy, his spine laying half in his body, Daddy was laying on his back, eyes open and lifeless, chest cavity empty and tears drying on his face, Alfred was laying curled up between Daddy and Papa, half frozen in fear, one of his legs broken and one of his arms removed. He lacked the top half of his skull. There was nothing inside. I looked at Gilbert. His pale skin was drenched in blood, flesh caught in between his shark like teeth, white hair red, even his wings had blood spatter.

He looked at me. I saw a demon. I saw a monster. I saw my lover.

I walked up to him, stepping in the leftover remains of my family members' bodies. Their blood was on my feet, I think some pieces of flesh or organ fell in my hair, I know their blood was dripping onto my cheeks and shoulders. "...Gilbert..."

"I am so sorry," he whimpered falling into my embrace. I hugged his blood covered body, kissing his cheek, his eyelids, his forehead until I got to his lips. I kissed like that first time. The one hundred and one time Ivan had raped me. The last time he had raped me. "I am so sorry," Gilbert repeated and I felt his tears.

"Just take me somewhere," I whispered running my hand through his hair, his tail wrapping around my knee, "Take me somewhere we can be together. Where no one can get me."

"Ja. Alright." He held me gently, the pointed end of his tail stabbing me in the stomach. I screamed, my nails digging into the flesh of his neck. He slashed at me with his claws, tore out chunks of my flesh with his teeth until I was practically dead in his arms. He used a claw to slice open an artery in his own neck, holding my gaping mouth to the wound. Gilbert's blood burned my throat and I wanted to scream as my vision started to get fuzzy, but my limbs were like bricks. "Ve vill be togezher soon, mein liebe," I heard him say before my vision got black and I never woke up again.

_The cold burned, my skin sizzled and my lungs strained. I couldn't feel my fingers. Or any part of me, really.  
__"Welcome to Hell, son-in-law."_

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**THAT WAS AWFUL!**

**I guess i hope you like it? It's 4:16 am so i better go to bed but PLEASE REVIEW~~! NO FLAMES PLEASE~!**

**LOVE YOU GUYS**

**~Kitty**

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_**Songs I was inspired by:**_

_**Clarity by Zedd**_

_**Broken Inside by Broken Iris**_

_**Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez**_


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